


the light in your eyes

by duracelll



Series: in a daze [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Faked Suicide, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, KagePro AU, M/M, Sort Of, dreams but nightmares, kagepro inspired, these tags probably scream 'wtf' if you dont know kagepro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duracelll/pseuds/duracelll
Summary: Life is undeniably cruel, to Jihoon that means folding even 1001 stars wouldn’t be enough to make his wish come true. In the end, nothing would change and perhaps that’s what hurts the most. No matter how talented, how gifted he was, he still can’t put stars back into their place in the sky after they’ve fallen.





	the light in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing this for like a week and it's really cutting into my personal stuff so i guess it's time to publish it despite my internal screaming of 'no'. idk after all that editing it still doesn't? feel right?? the emotion isn't as jarring as i was going for.. 
> 
> i have like an entire au planned out but idk if anyone was willing to read it sjhfns or if i was willing to write it all so this is kind of like a test? i was originally going to make this pilot smth junhao related but 2k words in i realized it was a walking bucket of spoilers (if i do end up writing a full chaptered fic) and messy pacing.. so enjoy this for now! i guess! god i kind of want to write the full thing so i can give soonhoon the happy ending they deserve
> 
> status: edited (i'll be ashamed if there are still typos considering i read it over so many times)

Jihoon breathes in, inhaling through his mouth as he saves his work and shuts his computer down for the day. It's much too late for anyone normal to be up, but his life has been wrecked and thrown off-course beyond repair for him to settle as someone ‘normal’. He pushes himself off his rolling chair, only for him to slump face-first onto his bed. 

 

He neglects the covers as pulling them over his body would make it too hot, but he's also cold just lying there. Jihoon lets out a soft groan, rolling onto his side to glance at the digital clock that rested on his nightstand. He's unclean, oily, greasy, his hair sticks flat against his head in an uncomfortable manner. 

 

Jihoon lives like a living corpse, even though he wasn't the one who fell from the roof that day. 

 

His fists curl up around the sheets and uncurl, he tries to grab something that isn't there yet he can't help but feel disappointed when only air slides through his fingers. Jihoon can try to forget as hard as he may, in the end he will always remember that shining smile that put the stars to shame still haunting, residing, in the back of his mind.

 

There's static white noise echoing in his ears and he never felt more alone in his life. 

 

When Jihoon finally slips his eyes shut on another numbing day, the last thing he notes is the time on the clock. It's 12:32 PM when he falls asleep. 

 

* * *

 

Jihoon found himself sitting in an empty classroom. The windows along the wall were stripped off, leaving billowing thin curtains to dance in the wind and an untainted view of the sunset that painted the sky a bloody hue of red. He sat in the last row, second from the window (or was he supposed to call it, ‘gaping holes in the wall’?) Jihoon thought he was alone in the room, before he noticed a thin trail of paper stars that lay on the ground leading up to the podium in front of the chalkboard. 

 

There’s a familiar, yet unfamiliar figure that stood rows before him. His hair is tousled, messy and blond, kept up and out of his pretty eyes with a headband. In this summer heat, he still wore a crimson hued muffler wrapped around his neck and he smiled as soon as he felt Jihoon’s gaze on him. 

 

“You’re here today, too?”

 

Jihoon didn’t know how to reply. Was he supposed to say ‘yes’? He wasn't quite sure if that ‘too’ could really apply to him, he's never really been here before, or so he recalled. 

 

“Ji, is your song finished today?” The blond blinked, “Ah, what a silly question. I shouldn’t be rushing you.” A song. “I’m sure it’ll turn out beautiful, though. It’s you, after all.” 

 

That’s right, Jihoon hummed, he was writing a song for this boy. He wrote music all the time, scratched notes onto scores like it was nothing on a daily basis. Because that was it, it was nothing, to him. Reflected in his actions, it was trash and never sounded right, he always ended up shredding the sheets into thin pieces in his frustration. 

 

And then someone, someone came when he least expected it. They took the scattered bits of a lost, abandoned masterpiece and turned them into something else beautiful.

 

He folded them into stars. 

 

“ _ Stars…? _ ”

 

Jihoon frowned a little at the memory. 

 

The blond beamed even wider, if it was even possible. He hopped atop of a desk and sat on the wooden surface rather than pulling out a chair for himself. His hands, empty before, unfurl in front of him to reveal a waterfall of paper stars spilling out from between his fingers. They softly thud against the floorboards, echoing through the room in a rhythmic pattern. 

 

If Jihoon had listened closely enough, he might have been able to recognize it. 

 

“Ji, have I ever told you about the story of  _ Hoshi _ ?” He asked, closing his eyes and sighed.

 

“I don't believe so.” Jihoon replies meekly. He has though, he's heard it a million times over. 

 

Perhaps the stranger caught onto that. He chuckled and slid his arms back around so he could lean and prop himself against them. “There was this village, one near the top of the highest hill. A child lived there, named Hoshi.” The blond’s eyes were half-lidded, like he was watching something at his feet, or maybe he was observing the ways the stars reacted in the wind. “That child loved the stars, they'd climb up that highest hill every night to be able to see and stare at them.”

 

A paper star had rolled its way over to nudge at Jihoon’s foot, it wasn’t as if he noticed though. 

 

“Except one day, the child realized something.”

 

He jumped off the desk, materializing a piece of chalk out of nowhere into his hand. The blond began to dot the chalkboard with drawings of five-pointed stars. Yellow against black, it mirrored the night sky in all its simplicity. He hummed along to some tune as he drew, Jihoon couldn’t quite place his finger on it but he definitely heard it from somewhere. 

 

If only he knew. 

 

“The stars began to fall from the heavens.” And for the first time, the boy’s smile dropped, replaced with a stoic expression as he smeared his hands across the board. All the stars within that path were erased. “You know what Hoshi did, Ji?”

 

“They made stars themselves, didn’t they?”

 

“That’s right.” He sang.

 

Jihoon wanted to stand up, maybe walk a bit closer and close the distance between them so it was more of a conversation rather than a lesson. Though, he found himself inexplicably rooted to his seat and desk, no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t will his legs to move. 

 

He wanted to do a lot of things, but not everything worked out the way he wished. 

 

“For every star that fell, Hoshi folded a new one out of paper.” The blond drew in stars, a little crappy, to fill in for the spaces he had created, “It’s said that in one night, the kid managed to fold 1000.” He chuckled, “Even got their whole village in on it, and every star they folded brought back one in the sky.”

 

“Impressive, huh?” Jihoon joked, “Hoshi must have some mad motor skills.” 

 

And the stars jeered at him. 

 

“I’m sure they weren’t nearly as impressive as you.” How smooth. “Musical genius, cutest existence on this planet--”

 

“Don’t.” He scowled, looking away. 

 

The stranger mused, clicking his tongue, “Actually, you’re right. Even  _ you _ wouldn’t be able to reanimate  _ stars _ , you might come pretty damn close though.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Jihoon snorted, “... I wouldn’t even try.” 

 

He waited for a response, and felt offset by the lack of one and raised his head to look at the blond. He seemed to go silent at what Jihoon thought of as a throwaway comment. His hand trembled, if only slightly, and the chalk turned to dust, disappeared. The way his shoulders heaved, the outline of his figure, Jihoon was sure he knew him from somewhere.

 

His name was just something Jihoon couldn't recall. 

 

“I’ve always wondered if Hoshi caught the fallen stars and brought them back to life, or if the old ones were merely replaced.” He smiled wryly, turning to face Jihoon, “Ji, can I ask you a question?”

 

“What is it.” The tone he replied with was rather flat. 

 

“You're… You're really smart, aren't you? I remember the expression on your face when you had to tutor me.” The blond laughed, emptily, “You were so frustrated then, weren't you? Always wondering why I couldn't understand the simplest of concepts. Then, if it was so easy, could you answer this for me?”

 

And Jihoon was left with pieces, only pieces, to string together an explanation for a past he buried. 

 

“ _ When you die, that’s it right? You’re gone for good? _ ”

 

Something broke, in his head, in his heart. 

 

And Jihoon was left wondering if he even had the correct pieces to begin with, because he heard something else. 

 

‘ _ Why do you think I died? _ ’

 

The question remained unsaid and hanged in the air. 

 

Terribly, uncomfortably. 

 

And it remained a mystery as to where the tension even came from.

 

His eyes narrowed at the shorter, marched even steps towards him in an almost threatening manner until he stood right in front of Jihoon’s desk. Jihoon choked on the proximity, in the absence of the familiarity he once felt, he couldn’t breathe in the summer haze. 

 

“I-I don’t understand.” He affirmed, the tone shifted too much for his liking too swiftly.

 

“Of course you don’t.” A snark. 

 

Jihoon has never felt smaller under the boy’s leering gaze. 

 

“You’re trying to forget me, aren’t you? Jihoon?”  _ Soonyoung _ laughed bitterly at the blanch expression on his face, and it’s so  _ wrong. _

 

Because, Soonyoung’s smile wasn’t supposed to be laced with contempt, he wasn’t supposed to let the light in his eyes  _ die _ . Jihoon wasn't supposed to let it, but as it turns out,  he was just too good at breaking promises and making bad decisions. 

 

The answer was almost clear then, after a summer of glass lies, Jihoon didn't understand how he never realized it sooner. 

 

Perhaps, people simply change with death as much as they do over the course of living.

 

Soonyoung and Jihoon, they just weren’t the same as before. 

 

When Jihoon exhaled, his breath came out stuttering and shaky, words that lingered on the tip of his tongue refused to be spoken. Jihoon himself refused to speak in response. He had nothing to say, to make up for anything. He just  _ couldn’t _ make up for anything. 

 

The revelation hurt him more than the illusion.

 

“You're still like that, stifling the things you want to say.” Soonyoung, the ghost of his image, relaxed back, any lines of aggravation on his face smoothed over. His expression morphed into one of pity. “You know, Jihoon, I’ve always wondered one thing…” 

 

Jihoon’s stomach dropped.

 

His hand swung up, a splayed hand pointed out the window and Jihoon’s gaze followed along, “What happens when people fall?” 

 

“W-what are you--”

 

“Jihoon, Jihoon,” the blond repeated, though it lacked the affection and underlying fondness that he remembered, “My darling, Jihoon, I trusted you, believed in you. You know that, right?” He took a stride towards the open sky. “But, I guess I was just wrong in thinking that what we had was mutual. Because, it wasn’t, right? It wasn’t, it was one-sided, I was deluding myself the whole time.” Soonyoung stood before the window, the sill seemed a lot lower than what Jihoon remembered. One could take a step over and plunge into a free-fall. 

 

There were a million things Jihoon could have said. ‘That’s not true.’ He wanted to yell, ‘You were my everything, too.’ But, his pride, some divine force, caught his words in a snare and prevented their escape. 

 

How could someone who brought so much meaning and light to his life say something like that about himself? 

 

“...They say that if you fold 1000 stars, like Hoshi did, you can grant one wish.” Jihoon couldn’t see Soonyoung’s visage as he faced away. “I wonder then… Why couldn’t my wish be granted?” The wind picked up, blowing paper stars across the room and causing fabric to flutter in the wind. The scarf Soonyoung wore painted broken wings sprouting from his back. The curtains couldn’t contain the bloody sky. 

 

Jihoon had to get up now, he  _ needed _ to push himself off of the chair and run to him before it was too late. Even now, he was bound to the chair by invisible chains, his guilty conscience weighed down and strapped him in place. When he opened his mouth to cry, nothing came out, his throat was already too raw.

 

He was never one to express how highly he truly felt for the ones he cared about. Apparently, this was when it all started catching up to him. 

 

“Jihoon, why didn’t you stop me?” With a tilt of his head, Soonyoung’s wistful smile was the last thing that Jihoon saw. A beautiful, beautiful smile. It was one that Jihoon had seen everyday, the one that greeted him as soon as he walked into class, the one that cheered him on and supported him at every opportune moment. It was a smile that no longer existed, for no one could see past the clarity of his facade. It was a smile that would inevitably be forgotten, as everyone’s would. 

 

And it was as if Soonyoung was spilling his heart out in this classroom, alone, speaking to a hollow shell that barely even heard his words. And Jihoon was an empty mannequin, posed there, motionless despite the dilemma before him. He was present, but never fully there. Truth be told, he'd simply been doing whatever it took to convince himself that  _ nothing was real.  _

 

That he'd wake up in the morning, go to school, continue on with his life with Soonyoung by his side. But, he didn't quite have that anymore. It hasn't quite sunk in yet. 

 

Soonyoung let out a hoarse laugh, mingled with something akin to a choked sob, the tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes were real, glistening and blinding. At least, Jihoon believed they were. “I just don't get it, you had… Every chance to say something, to do something.” He really did. “Surely, I believed that you would, because I meant something, right?”

 

Speechless, there were too many things to say

 

“Did you love me as I loved you?”

 

Shocked, he saw it coming

 

“... Because I’m sure you hate me.”

 

Everything rushed back to Jihoon a little too suddenly, as if he was being woken up in a cold sweat, yanked from his perfect dream world. There was no late classroom session he could drown himself in, if there was only himself. Soonyoung fell. 

 

A scream ripped through his throat, the chair slid back with a screech as he rose quickly and suddenly. There was only so much he could do, he tripped over the seat and desk in his way, and when he reached the window he only grasped air. The scarf slipped through his fingers, mocked him, because he surely felt the soft fabric brush against his skin if only for a fraction of a second.

 

“That’s all wrong, you’re wrong! You did so much for me. I could never--”

 

And he was gone.

 

A vase sat on the desk beside Jihoon, closest to the window. The white lilies were wilting.

 

_ He was gone. _

 

‘--hate you.’

 

He’d never see him again, if only in his dreams. 

 

For on August 15th 20XX, Kwon Soonyoung was declared dead by suicide.

 

(Was this all his fault?)

 

* * *

 

Jihoon’s blinks his eyes once, twice, and he can't help but feel like he's lived an entire lifetime in his slumber. Though, he has trouble recalling what is was that he dreamt of exactly. The sob that wracks his lungs and sends him trembling and heaving in his bed gives him the semblance of an idea.

 

His clock reads 12:33 PM. 

 

He misses Soonyoung, he misses him so much. No longer would he ever feel his fingers threading through his hair, gently and guiding again. Nor would he be able to experience the warmth of his hand or being. 

 

Soonyoung doesn't exist anymore.

 

And maybe, if Jihoon tried hard enough, cried hard enough, he could forget the boy ever existed at all.

 

(If it were what it took to save you, the star that fell that day, I’d fold even 1001 stars in a heartbeat.)


End file.
